Page 31 of Ruthless King
It’s something in her eyes, those dark, fucking intense eyes. I can hear her voice again, as if she shouted into my ear, though she never makes an actual sound.Get down!
I only have enough sense of mind to curl my arm around her waist, pulling her with me. We barely hit the floor before I have her beneath me, shielding her body as the world explodes. My neck prickles, stung by spraying material. The sound of broken glass shatters the quiet, along with a low, telltale buzz that precedes an explosion of noise in the corner of the room.
“Fuck!”
In addition to finding a beautiful assassin in my room, it’s been a while since someone’s taken a shot at me, let alone a sniper. I rock onto my knees, staying low to the ground. Only as my gaze falls over the woman do I entertain the possibility that she could be a part of this attempt. Distract me while the shooter takes his aim.
Even as the suspicion enters my mind, her tiny hands grip my forearms, her eyes scanning the room with that tiger-like intensity.
“Stay down,” I tell her, watching her stiffen as my mouth brushes her ear. “On my lead, we head for the door. Got it?”
Her mouth tightens, but she nods without meeting my gaze directly.
Tearing my attention from her, I try to take stock of the situation as quickly as possible. The shooter must have aimed twice. One initial shot shattered the window, and another took a chunk out of the wardrobe in the corner of the room. Through the fractured glass, I can only make out the darkened landscape and the nearest row of buildings. One’s close enough to be the shooter’s nest, and a flicker of movement in a window draws my notice.
“Got you, you sick fuck,” I hiss. Keeping close to the ground, I lurch for the door, dragging the girl by her arm. She’s quick, keeping pace on her hands and knees—but she runs into me as I stop short with a grim realization.
To open the door, I have to reach for the handle and risk entering the shooter’s line of sight. I could always grab the gun from the closet safe, but there’s no way I’d have a shot from here—not to mention that any move puts the woman at risk. I eye her and consider the most reckless of solutions—taking the risk anyway, long enough for her to escape.
I tighten my grip on her arm, prepared to shove her back—but already footsteps are racing down the hall.
“Boss?” a familiar voice rings out. I recognize the gruff baritone as belonging to Javier, my personal guard. “Is everything okay in there—”
“Be careful,” I warn. “Open the door but keep cover. Sniper.”
The handle turns, and the door opens just wide enough for me to shove the girl through. A whizzing noise hums past my ear as wood goes flying.
“Fuck!”
The second the girl moves, I follow her, slamming the door behind me. Lurching to my feet, I discover the other two guards on my detail already running to meet me.
“Send a team to comb the building northeast from here,” I demand. “I think I saw the son of a bitch on the same floor with a view facing mine.”
One of the men takes off while I turn to Javier. “Where is Vin?”
As if on cue, the door down the hall opens, and Vin sticks his head out from behind it, looking half asleep. “Where’s the party?” he demands. His gaze goes to the woman still in my grasp, and he raises an eyebrow. “Though it looks like you’ve been having more than enough fun on your own—”
“Get your shit,” I tell him, peering into his suite. The curtains are drawn shut, obscuring the view of any would-be shooter positioned outside. “We need to go now.”
“What are you…?” Finally, he seems to notice the hole in my door. And the blood on my shirt.
“Holy shit!” He ducks into his room, presumably getting dressed.
“Sir,” Javier says. “I have a team scouting the perimeter, and Lionel will bring around the car to the garage.”
“Who do you think it could be?” Vin demands, staggering from the room while wrestling his foot into a shoe. “The Salvatores?”
“Could be,” I say with a nod. “The sniper, at least.” I turn to the woman and tighten my grip on her arm just as she tries to slip from my grasp. From the corner of my eye, I catch Vin staring at her, but there’s no conspiratorial glance shared between them. Vin has a shit poker face, but in his expression, I see nothing but genuine interest as he scans the woman’s thin frame.
I grit my teeth, caught off guard by the irritation that flares. Apart from her attempt on my life, I have no claim to her. Though, on second thought, I do. The mystery she presents regarding Safiya’s memory is mine alone to explore.
In whatever way I chose. By coming to me, she sealed her fate. I’m entitled to her—at least to making her talk. And I fully intend to.
“So, what now? Were you hit?” Vin demands, turning to me. He slips his hand into his suit pocket, and I feel a sense of pride. The boy is already prepared to fight, future doctor or not.
Not that I plan for him to ever pull a trigger.
“I’m fine, but now I need to get you out of here. You—” I incline my head to the other guard. “Take Vincenzo to the countryside villa.” One of my new properties purchased after I secured the port. “Javier—” I turn to find the man still issuing orders into a headset. “You come with me. We’ll go separate routes in case we’re followed—”
